Costly Signals: Part Two
by Lesera128
Summary: After a really bad day at work, a person is capable of just about anything. Alcohol, a social experiment, & an aggressive verbal exchange bring B&B to the edge of a heated physical standoff & pushes one of them too far. AU. A collab w/dharmamonkey.
1. Ch 4: Amative Carnality

**Title: Costly Signals**

**By: **_**dharmamonkey**_** and **_**Lesera128**_

**Rated: M**

**Disclaimer: **We own nothing... Obviously. We're still just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

**A/N: **_This story is a direct continuation of "Costly Signals, Part I" posted under dharmamonkey's profile. You should read those chapters before jumping in here, or you will be confused. As a reminder, this story takes place chronologically at the very end of season 3, just before the events of the episode 3x14 - "The Wannabe in the Weeds." _

_This story is Part Two of a collaboration with the terrifically wonderful, often imitated, but never duplicated, dhamamonkey. You've heard from her one version of how this offspring was birthed over a period of several weeks. So, here's a bit more. Everyone knows I write a fairly decent mouthy Brennan when I need to, but an angry!Booth has never really been my forte- but, dharmamonkey does it so easily it makes me seriously jealous with envy. Realizing our two unique talents, we talked and brainstormed and percolated various ideas. We eventually came to the decision that the odyssey that would result in the creation of this story required, like the Justice League, that we combine our superpowers for the goodness and betterment of the world of Bone fan-fic unfness. It was supposed to be a one-shot... and, well, yeah, things got more complicated. as tends to be the case with most things with which I become involved. The eventual outcome of our toils was this fic. For those who have read the first part of the story, you've seen, you've read, you know. And, I have to say, the feedback that so many of you shared - mostly - has been incredible. Everyone knows I can be a review whore like the best of them, so I will simply say, with a fic like this that is so far removed from both authors' normal comfort zones, we both really do need to know how we're doing. We aren't expecting all praise, as constructive criticism makes writers better writers. But, if you've actually read the story and can take a few seconds to let us know how we've done, great. Otherwise, my pet dragon is still lurking to eat the flames of people who have nothing substantive to say. So, yeah, be warned._

_UNF ALERT! This story (particularly THESE chapters) are chocked full of adult situations, very adult language, and extremely hot unfness with the corresponding mental images (wicked awesome, right?). If such notions bother you for any reason whatsoever, please click the back button and look elsewhere for you Bones fan fic gratification. Obviously, to quote dharmamonkey, "sensitive types and underage readers should look elsewhere." All other readers, you may proceed onward. One final caveat: if you needed a bucket of ice after reading the first three chapters, you're probably going to need a cold shower when you're finished with these chapters - at least, if we've done our jobs right, you will. Standard disclaimers apply for people who can't handle unf-hot!Booth and unf-tempting!Brennan. Readers beware and proceed at your own peril..._

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><p><strong>Chapter 4 – Amative Carnality<strong>

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><p>Confident in her choice of a previous course of action, the warmth of the final tequila shot renewing her conviction and bolstering her resolve, Brennan didn't really register how quickly the cab arrived at Booth's building until the cabbie asked her if it was the right place as they sat out in front. Reaching into her jeans, Brennan took some money and passed it to the cab driver before exiting the automobile. She didn't bother to wait for the change on what had been a fairly small fare, making the cab driver's night with a very large tip, if nothing else.<p>

Fists clenched tightly together, Brennan stalked into Booth's building, bypassed the deathtrap of an ancient elevator, and trudged up several flights of stairs until she reached Booth's floor. Walking towards it, Brennan only stopped mid-step when she saw the large grey decorative rock sitting just outside Booth's door.

"I really, really hate you," Brennan muttered at the rock. "You serve no functional purpose since everyone knows exactly what you are, making it illogical to attempt to conceal any item of value within you." Glancing back at the closed door, Brennan tilted her head and amended her statement. "However, if your presence facilitates me succeeding in my goal of retrieving my cell phone, and perhaps continuing the prior conversation which Booth so rudely left before we could finish, I may have to reassess my initial judgment that perhaps you aren't as useless as I first thought you to be."

Nodding at the rock, and ignoring the fact that her conversational efforts had continued her earlier irrational behavior by anthropomorphizing it, Brennan reached down and moved the rock's 'secret' holding place… and found no key to be hidden in its depth.

"Oh, that's so _not_ amusing," Brennan said to it, feeling around in the rock's crevice and not finding the object of her desires. Scowling at it, Brennan told it plainly, "I lied. I do think you're stupid. Now, give me the goddamn key!"

Using her fingers to probe the entire surface of the rock to no avail, Brennan then began to look all around the rock for any other place in which Booth's spare key might be hiding. "Oh, come on!" Brennan yelled.

Standing up with a sharp movement, Brennan shook her head in renewed annoyance. "So fucking stupid." Looking at the rock, which seemed to be staring back at her in mocking contempt, Brennan pointed at it and said, "What is the point of keeping that damn dumb rock there if Booth doesn't even hide a key in it any more. It's useless. It's pointless. It's irrational, and I'm _tired of things not making any goddamn rational, logical sense._"

Glaring at the rock, Brennan growled, "This is all _your _fault. You dumb, stupid rock. You're stupid, you know that? Stupid. Stupid. STUPID!"

Realizing that she wouldn't be able to get her phone back without the option of once again having to rely on Booth in some way, shape, or form, Brennan shook her head in disgust. "Fine! Fine. I get it. Fine!"

Continuing to shake her head, Brennan moved to the door and used her fist to begin pounding on it.

"Booth!"

Brennan pounded several more times.

"It's me. I want my phone back. Open up!"

There was still no answer. As she realized that she might be being ignored, Brennan's anger intensified.

"Come on, Booth! You're stupid fucking rock ate your key. I can't get in, so OPEN UP!"

After a minute or two, looking back at the rock, Brennan felt a surge of frustration turned to rage as she said, "I hate you, you know that? I really, really hate you."

Brennan pounded on the door again.

"BOOTH!"

Still, the door didn't open, and further, Brennan heard no audible sounds of movement within. Her earlier frustration replaced with a new source of rage, as Brennan believed her plan to have been thwarted by a decorative rock, she refrained from yelling and instead decided to kick the rock.

"I hate you!" Brennan screamed at the rock. She moved her foot forward, and Brennan gave the rock a sharp kick that actually ended up hurting her, given the lack of foot support offered by her heels, than the rock. Still, Brennan reared her foot back and slammed it into the rock's side again. "You dumb, stupid, ugly useless synthetic poor excuse for a solid aggregate mineral. I. hate. you. Hate, as in detest with every fiber of my emotional and cognitive being. _Stupid fucking rock!_"

Suddenly, the door to Booth's apartment flew open, just as Brennan withdrew her foot from its assault on the rock.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," Booth said, taking in the sight of Brennan attacking his decorative rock. "Really, Bones?"

"Yes, really." Her head spinning to Booth, Brennan said, "And, I wasn't talking to you."

"I kinda got that," Booth said, crossing his arms in defiant annoyance. "Now, you mind telling me who you're having a conversation with and then why you're attacking my home décor?"

"I hate your dumb rock," Brennan said, ignoring Booth's first question. "It's a poor excuse for a geological formation."

"I'm sure that hurt its feelings very much," Booth said. "So, you're beating up my rock because you hate it… at two o'clock in the morning, just because… or are there any other reasons?"

"I told you. I hate it… and I want my phone back," Brennan said, taking a step towards him. "That's why I'm really here."

"Oh, really?" Booth said, his eyes narrowing predatorily. "Your phone? That's it?"

"Yes," Brennan said. "You have inappropriately and unjustly confiscated an item that is my personal property, Booth, and I want it back," Brennan said.

"And, that connects to you wailing on my rock, how?" Booth asked.

"They aren't necessarily related," Brennan said. "My long-standing ire of your rock was simply renewed as I waited for you to take your sweet time answering the door. Now, give me back my phone."

"You still haven't asked nicely," Booth said, resuming his prior wording and demeanor from the bar. "Aren't you going to say 'please'?"

"No, no, no." Brennan said. "I'm not going to do what you want me to do simply because you say it."

"Then, you're so far gone it's not even funny," Booth said. "Come back tomorrow when you're sober so you can ask me nicely, and I'll give it back to you. Now, go home."

"No!" Brennan yelled. "And, stop telling me what to do. I'm not a goddamn geisha for you to boss around. I'm a brilliant scientist with three PhDs."

"Who needs to repeat the letters after her name every five minutes to remind herself because she isn't overcompensating for something else, right?" Booth snorted.

"Where's my phone?"

"Bones, seriously. You're drunk. Like, seriously drunk. _Go home_."

"NO!" Brennan yelled. "I'm not drunk. I'm not going home without my phone. I want it back, right now. And, I hate your goddamn rock!"

Retracting her leg, Brennan moved to kick it as hard as she could for a third time, but the pain of her earlier efforts finally started to register, and she misjudged her step, losing her balance in the process. Brennan yelped loudly, and instinctively, Booth reached out and grabbed her with one arm.

"For fuck's sake, Bones," Booth said wryly. "If that's not a metaphor for your sexual frustration, I don't know what is."

"Explain."

"Oh, Jesus, Bones, come on? You pounding repeatedly on my rock? How much more symbolic do we need to get here? Paging Dr.-fucking-Freud."

"I hate psychology. Now, _give…me…my…phone!"_

Tightening his grip around her wrist, Booth hissed at her, "Will you please try to be quiet here? It's the middle of the night, and you're going to wake up my neighbors."

"I don't care," Brennan said. "It's not like Mrs. Peterson isn't strung out on prescription narcotics most of the time anyway. She probably doesn't even know the difference between me yelling, the TV she always leaves on in the background, or her hallucinations. As for the rest of them, I don't care. It's not my problem."

"One of them will call the cops if you don't shut that big fat trap of yours, Bones," Booth muttered angrily. "As in the local flatfoots who love nothing better than to come out to a federal's house whenever they even think they sniff the words 'domestic disturbance'. So, will you please shut the fuck up and leave… or shut the fuck up and come inside if you still want to rant some more. But, in either case, _shut up_!"

Yanking her arm free from his grasp, Brennan shot Booth a look, but said nothing as she pushed past him and strode into the apartment. Booth sighed as he shut the door and didn't even have a chance to register what was happening by the time it actually had already started. Within about thirty seconds of entering the apartment, Booth found himself losing his balance and then staring straight up at the ceiling of his apartment. Brennan was on top of him, straddling his body with one of her legs planted firmly on either side of his hips.

"I told you," Brennan said. "I want my damn phone. Now, where is it?"

Looking up at her, Booth shook his head and said in a taunt, "Ask nicely." He narrowed his eyes and looked into hers, confirming what he had thought— that her bizarre behavior could be chalked up to the collision of intoxication, indignant anger, and sexual frustration. _Note to self, _he smirked. _Temperance Brennan can get drunk and act irrationally, it just takes the better part of a night to actually happen._

"No!"

"Then, I'm not telling you."

"I'm going to find it, Booth."

"Good luck with that one," Booth chuckled, squirming a little against her as she straddled him and feeling grateful that he'd taken that shower, otherwise he guessed he would never survive this kind of assault with his dignity intact.

Pursing her lips together, Brennan tightened her legs and pressed them harder against his pelvis in retaliation. She desperately hoped to elicit some type of response from Booth other than the flippant dismissal he currently seemed to be displaying in reaction to her efforts. Her already incredibly high level of frustration increased, and, with it, Brennan's decision to act without thinking. Things were happening too quickly, so rapidly, that they had already moved far beyond the possible scenarios Brennan had run through in her head on the cab ride over. Analysis taking a back seat to the more base need of Brennan having to assert some successful display of dominance informed her next words. "I don't care if I have to tear this place apart and you with it—I want my damn phone!"

"What are you going to do? Frisk me, Bones?" A voice in the back of his head murmured that such a prospect might not be all that bad. He closed his eyes and tried to tell that voice to shut up. _God, Bones. _The way her thighs were pressed against his hips, it was everything he could do to keep from embarrassing himself with his body's response to her. He started reciting Latin in his mind to keep the tingle he felt from manifesting itself in a way she would certainly be able to feel. He knew it was blasphemous, to employ the Hail Mary this way, but he didn't care. He was desperate, and Booth needed all the help he could get. _Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum. Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus. Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostr__æ. Amen._

"If necessary, now tell me, where did you hide it?" Brennan said. Crossing her arms, Brennan looked down at him with a superior look of knowing smugness coming into her eyes. "My best guess is that you'd keep it close by, perhaps in one of your pockets—"

"Guess?" Booth snorted. "Since when do you guess?"

"Logic dictates that you would only act in a limited number of predetermined ways, Booth. With my superior intellect and skills of deduction, combined with my familiarity of how you think, anticipating your behavior isn't all that hard—"

Again, Booth forced himself not to groan at her words. Surely, given their current position, Brennan wasn't actually making a pun. _She really couldn't be that devious now, could she?_

"—Now, give it to me!"

_Or, maybe she was._ In either case, Booth knew he couldn't let her challenges go unanswered. Deciding to respond in kind, at Brennan's final words, Booth merely laughed again. "_Uhh,_ yeah. About that, Bones? Where exactly do you think I'd be able to hide it given what I'm wearing right now? Where do you think I'd keep it—in my underwear?"

Suddenly, Brennan looked down, and her resolve crumpled a bit as her eyes registered the fact that Booth was clad only in a pair of snug black boxer-briefs. She saw Booth's warm eyes narrow again as they scanned her face, finally coming to a rest as he stared into her eyes. Though Brennan was the one who was fully clothed, and he was the one who was nearly nude—and laying underneath her—she suddenly felt very exposed.

"Oh," she said, a bit nervous suddenly. "Ummm, yeah." She shifted her weight from one hip to the other, eliciting a growl from her partner beneath her, but she did not get up.

Booth wondered how many hundreds of times he had fantasized about looking up at her straddling him, then realized that this was not what he had ever had in mind during any of those luscious fantasies. For one thing, the hardwood floor was exceedingly uncomfortable—in all of his fantasies, she had straddled him while he was seated on a piece of furniture (her office sofa, his apartment sofa, a chair in his dining room, one of the rotating stools at the diner) or laying prone on his bed. _Okay, this is not helping._

"Hey, Bones?"

"What?" she snapped.

He rolled his head to the side slightly, looking at her out of one eye as he tried to channel his inner squint. "How's about you get up off of me so we can talk about the conditions under which I would be willing to relinquish possession of your phone?"

Brennan's brow furrowed and she stared down at him for a moment. Her glance slipped from his eyes, down to his adam's apple, along the sternocleidomastoid muscle that ran from just below his ear down to the manubrium of his sternum, and then to the space between his pectoralis major muscles. She felt a strange, but irkingly familiar sensation as if her stomach had flipped—though she knew this was not possible—and noted a warm stirring between her legs. _No, no, no. He does not get to do this to me, too. Damn him, _she thought. _Damn him for being like this. Damn him for being so perfectly formed and just gorgeous. And damn him for being so insufferably irritating. Why does he keep challenging me? Why? Damn him. Damn him. Damn him! _The more she thought about him challenging her, refusing to concede when just about every other male she had ever encountered in her life would've long ago given into her long before now, the more Brennan realized she was starting to become aroused—and the last thing Brennan wanted was for Booth to know that she was physically responding to him. _Distance_, she thought_, we need some physical distance. Good idea._

"Okay," Brennan finally said as she lifted herself off of him, "but we are not done yet."

Booth grinned at that comment and picked himself up off of the floor with a grunt, suddenly reminded of how much he had drank that night as the pounding in his head resumed.

"I figured as much," he grumbled. _A man can only hope, _he thought as he adjusted the waistband of his boxer-briefs to give himself a little more breathing room. With a quick glance at Brennan, whom he caught staring at him, Booth wondered if it would have been a better idea to wear actual boxers, which would have been a little less revealing. _Then again,_ he mused, noting the hungry look in her eyes, _maybe revealing was good._

"Booth," she said impatiently, irritated that he had caught her ogling him, tried to distract and refocus the situation so that she controlled it. "My phone?"

He chuckled. "Patience, grasshopper," Booth said.

She shot him a strange look. "I don't know what that means." _Of course not, _he smirked.

"You see something you like, Bones?" he asked, drumming his fingers over his flat stomach, as he looked her over. _God, she's hot. So fucking sexy. And so mine._

"Of course, Booth," she said evenly, trying to keep the tremor she felt from revealing itself in the timbre of her voice. "I've always found your physical attributes to be pleasing. I've never debated that point."

"You think I'm hot?" he asked with a grin, surprised that Brennan was so forward with that admission, squinty though it was in the way she framed it.

"Colloquially speaking," she said. "Yes. You have excellent proportions between the distance between your acromia, on the one hand, and the distance between the outer edge of your iliac crests, on the other."

Booth grinned at the compliment, but had no idea to which of his physical features she was referring. "Um, thanks, I guess. But, what does that mean?"

Brennan walked towards him, as he stood in the middle of his living room with his hands on his hips, then moved behind him. She reached up and touched the outer point of his shoulder blade. "This," she said, "is your acromion. Acromia is the plural." Her hand slid down the surface of his back, her fingers moving over his smooth skin and over his rippling musculature, finally coming to rest on his hip, just behind where his own hand rested. "This," she said, stroking her finger along the fan-shaped bone of his pelvis, "is your iliac crest." She swallowed hard, annoyed that, in doing what had been intended to tease him, she was becoming more and more aroused by him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Brennan thought, _maybe this wasn't such a good idea_.

Booth turned toward her, running his hand through his still-damp hair. "So, you like that I have broad shoulders and narrow hips?"

"Yes," Brennan whispered, squirming somewhat in her jeans as she noted how very damp she had become since entering his apartment. _Wet_, she thought miserably. _Too wet_.

"Is that it?" he said cockily.

"No," she smirked. "The bone structure of your face has very masculine features," she said. Brennan brought her hand to his face. "You have a very striking supraorbital ridge," she said, tracing her finger over his brow, "which gives your eyes the appearance of being very deeply set." Her finger moved down to his jaw. "You have a very strong, square mandible." Brennan felt the muscle of his jaw tighten in response to her touch. "You have a high zygomatic arch," she said, brushing her thumb across his cheekbone. "And, your laryngeal prominence is, well, very prominent," she noted, stroking her index finger over his adam's apple as he swallowed self-consciously.

Booth smiled at the compliments, trying to ignore how arousing her touch was and hoping, praying really, that she kept her eyes focused above his waist lest she see how arousing her touch and her words were to him.

"Thanks," he said, rolling his head to the side to feel more of her hand against his cheek.

"And, now I want my phone back," Brennan snapped, pulling her hand away with an infuriating smirk.

"You're an evil woman," Booth growled, as he turned away from her and walked over to his stereo system.

"Where are you going?" Brennan said, following him.

Ignoring Brennan's question, Booth turned on his iPod as it sat in its cradle, changed one of the stereo settings, then scrolled through one of the iPod's screens, selected a playlist, then hit "shuffle." The first strains of a song began to play, the music filling the heaviness of the air between them.

_When will I know that I really can't go _

_To the well once more time to decide on _

_When it's killing me _

_When will I really see _

_All that I need to look inside _

_Come to believe that I better not leave _

_Before I get my chance to ride _

_When it's killing me _

_What do I really need _

_All that I need to look inside _

_Hey oh listen what I say oh _

_Come back and hey oh_

_Hey oh look at what I say oh _

_The more I see the less I know _

_The more I like to let it go... hey oh _

_Woah oh_

_Deep beneath the cover of another perfect wonder _

_Where it's so white as snow _

_Privately divided by a world so undecided _

_And there's no where to go _

_In between the cover of another perfect wonder _

_Where it's so white as snow_

"Evil woman," Booth repeated quietly, shaking his head.

"Good and evil are theoretical constructs created to define a society's collective morality," she said. "I don't believe in good or evil."

Booth turned around and shook his head, his eyes drilling into hers. "After all we've seen together, you're telling me you don't believe in evil?" he asked incredulously. "After what you went through, you and Hodgins, in that car, being buried alive by the Gravedigger, you're telling me you don't believe in the existence of evil?"

Brennan recoiled at the mention of that day, surprised that Booth would even bring it up, given the emotions it evoked in juxtaposition to their more current physical situation: the day she and Hodgins spent, sucking on an ever-diminishing supply of oxygen, wracking their brains for a way out, desperately trying to extend their oxygen supply while managing a short text message—an electronic SOS of sorts—to Booth and then hotwiring the airbag to blow the windshield out and open a way out of their underground prison. She remembered talking to Hodgins that day about Booth:

_"If the ransom was paid, we'd be out by now," Hodgins said grimly, in unspeakable pain from the deep incision she had made through the facia of his lower leg to alleviate the compartment syndrome caused by him having been run over by the Gravedigger's car. "Why prolong the inevitable?"_

_"Booth will find us," she had told him._

_"You have a lot of faith in Booth," he observed with a faint smile._

_"No," she said. "Faith is an irrational belief in something that is logically impossible. Over time, I've seen what Booth can do. It's not faith."_

_Hodgins had chuckled at her statement. "No offense—and I'm not just saying this because you filleted me with a knife. We are out of air. We don't know if our message got out, much less if anyone understood it and we are buried underground. What you have is faith, baby."_

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to jettison the memory from her consciousness. She didn't want to think about that day, what she went through, how she felt. _No, no, no. No emotions. No feelings. No. Not now. Not right now. No!_

After a few seconds, Brennan opened her eyes again and looked at Booth, feeling a bit more calm, a bit more controlled. "I believe that we'll find that the Gravedigger is a psychopathic or sociopathic personality who suffers from some form of a degenerative mental disease," she said. "I don't believe in any sort of transcendent force or energy that makes people do bad things. People do bad things on account of their own free will or because their brains are diseased. There is no such thing as evil, _per se_."

For several moments, neither of them said anything.

"So," Brennan said, eventually breaking the silence. "About my phone—I want it back."

"Sure you do," he said. "What's in it for me, though, Bones?"

"What?" she scoffed. "Why do I owe you any kind of consideration or remuneration as a condition precedent to obtaining the return of my own personal property, property which you wrongfully absconded with when you took it from me without permission?"

Booth laughed. "See, you think you just got all squinty on me," he said, "but you forgot that I have a degree in political science and have taken a couple of courses on law, so I actually understand exactly what you said just then. You do owe me, since I have the phone, you want it back, and what I say goes. Nice try, though." He glared at her. "See? I'm smarter than a fifth grader."

"Of course you are, Booth," Brennan ground out, biting back her original retort that while perhaps Booth was smarter than a fifth-grader, a sixth grader might be stretching his talents and give him a metaphorical competition for his cash tender. Instead, she hoped that perhaps a bit of compliance might be rewarded because she suddenly started to feel a bit panicked again. Things were not going how she anticipated, and the urge to flee had started to pick at the edge of the happy haze of alcohol that clouded her mind. Smiling at him, Brennan said, "I never suggested otherwise. Now—the phone?"

He arched an eyebrow and shrugged. "Okay, give me a second," he said as he turned and walked into his bedroom. Booth walked over to his laundry hamper and picked up his trousers, reaching in to the left hip pocket to retrieve her smart phone. For a moment, he held it, rolling over in his hand as if inspecting it for the first time. Booth held it up, glanced over his shoulder to see where she was, then pushed a button and began scrolling through her contacts out of mere prurient interest:

AARONSEN, ANDRE

ACKERMAN, MAYNARD

ADLER, JADEN

ALDEN, RUFUS

ANDREWS, GALEN

ARMSTRONG, GEORGY

BANKS, AUBREY

BARRY, LAWRENCE

BARTH, BRINKLEY

BENZ, WINSTON

.

"What are you doing?" Brennan hissed, her sharp tone crackling through the air as she approached him from behind and reaching around to grab her phone.

Booth laughed, quickly recovering from how she had startled him, and lifted his arm, holding the phone high and beyond her reach. "What is this, an A-Z dictionary of names to give to boys to assure they'll spend the rest of their lives as virgins?"

"What?"

"This has to be the most impossibly effeminate collection of names I've seen in—"

"You must not have scrolled down far enough, Booth," she said wryly. "I think yours is down there towards the end of the B's."

…

BIRKMAN, CARL

BJORNSEN, IB

BOGEY, HEATH

BOOTH, SEELEY

…

Booth blinked. "Yeah, well—" _Touché, Bones. _"You might be interested to know that I've overcome my name and managed to lose my virginity despite it, thank you very much."

"Spare me the details of your past romantic conquests, Booth, which star you as your deity's sexual gift to the gratification of all human females given your prowess and skill as a lover. _Ha._ I'm not interested. Now, just give me my phone," Brennan demanded again, grasping his arm. He twirled out of her grasp and walked over towards the bed, holding the phone high and dodging her attempts to pull his arm down.

"Come on, Bones," he said with a grin. "That's not why you're here."

"You insufferable ass," Brennan snarled. "Stop telling me about me. You don't know me nearly as well as you think you do, Booth."

"Cut me a goddamn break, Bones. You're not here, chasing me around my bedroom in my underwear, just because you want your goddamn phone back."

Her jaw hardened and she glared at him, but said nothing. Her eyes said it all.

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><p><strong>-TBC-<strong>

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><p><strong>AN: **So, it has come to my attention that a few individuals thought we were quite evil with where the last chapter ended. Heh heh. Well, if that was bad... ummm, how's *this* for an evil cliffhanger? And, as an aside, yeah, you can blame me for that one, not dharmamonkey, because we all know who does evil cliffies. Like it? Hate it? Indifferent? Inquiring minds (AKA dharmamonkey and me) need and want to know. Feedback is a gift, and we love receiving presents. And, if that doesn't encourage you to send a shout out... how about this? The rest of the story is already completed, edited, uploaded, and ready to go. We aren't above being bribed. The more quickly we feel less insecure about the story, the more likely the rest of it'll probably get posted all that much sooner. So... heh heh ::Lesera128 dodges smacks from dharmamonkey and many, many other readers:: tee hee...:)~


	2. Ch 5: Collecting Evidence

**Title: Costly Signals**

**By: **_**dharmamonkey**_** and **_**Lesera128**_

**Rated: M**

**Disclaimer: **We own nothing... Obviously. We're still just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

**A/N: **The feedback from everyone has been AMAZING. Thanks for sharing, and since this is the story's climax (in more ways then one) keep 'em coming!

UNF ALERT! Okay... so, yeah. Here it is... what most of you've been waiting for when it comes to some great feedback like... 'more, more, more!' All we can say is... yeah, that's what both Booth and Brennan said... LOL. Here be the fully grownup images we've finally promised (if you take our meaning and if the earlier ones weren't enough). So, yes, consider yourself still warned. :)~

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><p><strong>Chapter 5 – Collecting Evidence<strong>

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><p>"So, I'm right?" he asked, taunting her with a flash of his eyebrows. "The real reason why you're here, Bones? It's not because this is about a goddamn cell phone, is it?"<p>

Brennan's eyes surveyed his body as he turned away from her: his perfect acromia, the highly defined musculature of his back, the way his boxer-briefs clung to his presumably well-formed gluteus maximus, the way his well-toned quadriceps, hamstrings and calf muscles stood out from his legs, which were covered with fine curls of light brown hair. _Stop it, _one voice firmly chided herself. _This is not helping_. _He's obviously not going to give you what you want willingly, so do what you have to do and take it_, she told herself. _Do it. Now. _Her resolve hardening, Brennan's eyes focused on his calves, then, in a movement so swift it surprised even her, she hooked her leg around one of his, causing Booth to lose his balance and fall onto the bed.

However quick her movements were, his reflexes—the product of his natural athleticism together with years of military training and a latent expectation that Brennan might try a similar move to the one she had begun the evening with in the family room—were razor sharp. Before she knew what had happened, Booth's arm shot out and pulled her onto the bed with him, her body pressed against his as his laughter filled her ears. Booth tossed her phone onto one of his nightstand tables, then rolled over her and straddled her, pinning her down and supporting his weight on his arms that he'd drilled into the bed on each side of her waist.

"So you think I can't satisfy you, huh?" he asked her, a wide grin on his face. "You want to collect some evidence so you test that hypothesis?"

She gulped in the air greedily. _When did it get so warm in here?_ she thought. And, when couched in Booth's terms, was his suggestion necessarily such a bad idea, after all? Her phone quickly forgotten, the buzzing in her ears acting as a type of inhibitor to rational thought, Brennan decided no, it wasn't. Suddenly, Booth's suggestion actually seemed like a very good idea with several redeeming attributes. "Yes," she said breathlessly, her heart pounding in her chest as she felt his body heat radiate off his smooth skin. "Evidence," she muttered in agreement. Looking up, Brennan rapidly nodded her head. "We need evidence to test the hypothesis. Yes, _more_ evidence."

Booth smiled and let out a slow breath. "Okay," he said quietly. Then, in a moment of doubt, he asked, "Are you sure?"

"Are _you_ sure?" Brennan growled in retort, desperately hoping to ban anything beyond the physical from both his head and hers at that particular moment, but especially hers. _Please_, she begged herself irrationally. _Just, for once, stop analyzing. An experiment. That's it. It's a sound scientific principle. Stop thinking and just let things follow their natural progression. Please._ Brennan's inner dialogue was interrupted when Booth locked his gaze with hers and nodded.

"Yeah," he said with a toothy, self-assured grin. "Want me to prove it to you?"

"Yes," she breathed.

Booth licked his lips unconsciously as he stared down at the delicious sight beneath him: his partner, her face flush with want, her breathing shallow, and her eyes somewhat darker than he was used to seeing them—and, since he spent hours each workday looking into those eyes, he knew her eyes nearly as well as he knew his own. At some point, Brennan's eyes had shifted from their very, very pale green to a dark, dark teal, almost the color of the sea just before or just after a storm. Somehow the metaphor seemed quite appropriate, Booth thought.

"Alright then," Booth said with an enthusiastic smile as he leaned back on his haunches, his hands moving to the front of her jeans. He felt a tingle in his fingertips as he unsnapped her jeans and slowly lowered the zipper. Booth felt his own skin get hot thinking that he was about to do what he had fantasized about doing since the morning he first saw her in front of that class at American University—getting her naked, in his bed, and having his way with her. He moved off of her so he could remove her jeans and wondered, for a moment, whether Brennan would have second thoughts and bolt, without a backward glance or a parting word, while she still had a chance.

But, Brennan didn't, and as she lifted her bottom off the bed and clumsily toed off her high-heeled shoes so he could pull her jeans off, Booth knew she was as eager for this as he was, and that realization sent a shiver down his spine as he tossed her jeans to the side and admired the luminescent, perfectly ivory skin of her long legs. His glance slinked up the line of her leg to her thighs and paused at the sight of her light blue heather high-cut cotton panties. _Practical_, Booth thought, the notion tickling him with pleasure. _Far too practical…_

"I was wrong," he murmured, not even realizing that his thoughts had escaped his lips.

"What?" she creaked, Brennan's head shooting up off of the bed, her voice somewhat hurt. _Does he not find me—?_

Booth realized that the no-longer-internal portion of his internal dialogue might be misconstrued. "No, God, you're gorgeous," he reassured her. "I can tell I was wrong—you didn't go to that club tonight intending to go home with anyone—or take anyone home."

"That's true," she said, sighing in relief. "But how—I mean, how can you tell that?" she asked.

He smiled and arched his eyebrow, crinkling his forehead the way she had seen him do so many times when explaining one of his 'gut' feelings to her. "Because, if you had, you would have worn sexier underwear," he said with a chuckle. "Black lace? A thong? If you'd have worn something like that, then sure, I'd say you expected to get laid tonight. But, plain cotton panties? Nope, you never expected anyone to see these." Booth winked. "Not even me."

Brennan laughed at this, willing to give him credit for making a correct deduction on the basis of empirical observations. Perhaps many of those "gut feelings" he had were another form of deductive reasoning, after all, one based on interpreting subtle nonverbal cues that Brennan felt handicapped in being unable to see herself. At some point, Brennan suddenly realized that Booth had leaned in close to her, close enough to her head so that she could hear his soft whisper quite clearly.

"Stop thinking," he told her. "I can see you thinking. Right now. You're laying there, staring at me, while you're trying to figure out what's happening, why, and how you can control it. _Stop._ Just stop it, Bones. Trust me. I promise you'll enjoy this a lot more if you turn that beautiful, brilliant brain of yours off for a while. Okay?"

Brennan briefly considered a retort, but as his index finger slipped stroked up her thigh and under the bottom hem of her panties, she felt her grip on rational thought slip again into the oblivion of his touch. Slowly, Brennan nodded.

"Good," Booth said. Turning his attention back to where his hands rested between Brennan's legs, Booth eyed her with approval. "God, you're so wet," he said, his thumb rubbing against the damp fabric in the crotch of her panties.

She could form no reply other than a deep sigh as he tugged at her panties, and Brennan lifted her bottom from the bed again as he slid them down her legs and flung them to the side.

"Oooh, yeah," he whispered, brushing his fingers across the auburn curls between her legs, causing her toes to clench. "I'm so glad you don't—"

"What?" Brennan asked, surprised she had actually managed to utter a coherent thought—even though it was only a one-word utterance.

"You know," Booth gestured, twirling his index finger around one of the curls that lay crowning her soft folds. "I like that you keep it… simple, but… not too crazy. Just… normal, you know? _Natural._"

She swallowed and looked up at him, taking in the smile on his face as he looked down at her, rolling her curls between his fingers. "Really?"

Booth nodded as he put one knee between her legs and brought himself face to face with her. "Absolutely," he said. "I'm a very—" he said, reaching up and touched her shoulder, bringing his hand slowly down and cupping the underside of her breast, "—tactile person." He laughed at his own teasing. "I love touching."

He narrowed his eyes, mildly annoyed at the encumbrance of her shirt and bra. "These have gotta go," Booth mumbled as he stroked his open palm across her flat stomach and tugged at the bottom of her thin black halter top. Brennan smiled, crossed her arms in front of her and pulled it up and over her head. She heard him gasp at the sight of her chest, pale and creamy, bare but for the black strapless bra she wore.

"Wow," Booth sighed, unclasping her bra and gently encouraging the cups to fall away from her breasts. _The guy who invented front-clasp bras should be nominated for sainthood, _he mused. _Well, maybe knighthood at the very least._

His breath caught in his throat as he admired her breasts—so full and firm, yet soft and round, her nipples a dark shade of rosy pink. Booth took her breast in his large hand—_a perfect handful,_ he thought—and stroked his thumb across the bud of Brennan's nipple.

"Booth," she moaned, arching her back in response to his touch. _Oh, God, that feels good. He's touching me, and it's Booth touching me, and it feels wonderful. Fuck. It's not supposed to feel this good._ Booth pinched her gently between his thumb and calloused right forefinger, eliciting another, even loader moan from her lips. "Harder," she hissed as she closed her eyes. Booth pinched her harder, twisting her nipple between the pads of his fingers. "Ohhh!"

"You like it rough, Bones?" he asked, wincing as a raw tingle of arousal passed up his spine, aware that he was already very hard and getting even more so by the minute.

She opened her eyes and saw the predatory gleam in his eyes, which had reacquired the onyx-like hue that she had seen earlier that night at the club. "Yes," she admitted. "Do you?" Brennan asked.

He laughed darkly. "I can go either way, Bones," he said. "Would you prefer slow and gentle or hard and rough?"

"I'm not the one with something to prove," Brennan growled. "But, if you remember, I do seem to recall some vague claim you made about your ability to…what was it? Oh, right… 'make me come in ways I've never imagined, harder than I ever thought possible'. That was it, right?"

Booth narrowed his eyes at her. "That almost makes it sound like you're daring me there, Bones."

"Like I said, I'm not the one with something to prove right now, Booth. So, it's your call, Booth," said.

"_Hmmph_," was all Booth said in reply.

He bent his head down and flicked his tongue across her other nipple. Booth placed his mouth over her nipple and sucked as hard as he could while tweaking the other nipple hard with his fingers. Brennan's back arched high off the bed, and he felt her shudder, then grunt loudly through clenched teeth.

"Did you just—?" he asked, his eyes wide with surprise at how sensitive she was.

"No!" Brennan blurted out. "No, I didn't," she said, her voice wavering somewhat.

"Yes—yes, you did," Booth said, shaking his head slightly. "You did."

"No—"

"You did," Booth insisted. "Admit it."

"You barely touched me," Brennan scoffed. "Who do you think you are? Some superhero whose special power is to make me come?"

"If the shoe fits, Bones," Booth taunted her. "Now, admit it."

"There's nothing to admit." Brennan was using every single piece of meditative training and exercise to focus that she could think of to get some control of things. _This is too much, too fast, too much,_ she thought to herself. It's one thing to stop thinking, to stop analyzing, it was another to admit that Booth was playing her like a Stradivarius. _Then again,_ she admitted, but only to herself, _it's not like I wasn't already three-quarters of the way there before we even got to the bedroom._

Booth shook his head and twirled his tongue around her nipple again. "Liar," he growled. "You totally came, Bones. You just won't admit it."

"No," she insisted, knowing full well that he knew that she had, in fact, just orgasmed, but refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her acknowledge it out loud.

"What's the big deal?" Booth said. "Just admit it."

"No," Brennan said again. "You have no evidence whatsoever to indicate that I had any sexual gratification at your expense. Now, I'd liked to get off if that's okay with you, but since you apparently would rather have a discussion about coming, as opposed to actually doing it, you need to let me know if I should just take care of things myself or not—"

"Whatever, Bones," he said mockingly, as he tweaked her nipple again with his fingers. "This ain't my first rodeo, you know. Shall we ask the judges for a ruling on that one, Bones?"

"I don't know what that means," she hissed

"Uh-huh," he replied absently, trying to conceal his self-satisfaction. "But, somehow, I'm sure you get the general idea."

_I'd have thought for sure it'd have taken a bit more than that,_ Booth smirked. _Perhaps it has been a while._ He ran his hand across her collarbone, admiring the way her skin had flushed, pausing to rest his fingers over Brennan's heart as he felt it race beneath his touch. _Yeah, she totally came, _he grinned. _So awesome._ Booth glanced up at her with a crooked smile and resolved to bring Brennan back to the edge of oblivion as quickly as he could—in no small part because the nagging ache in his balls had returned and he knew he needed to be inside of her, quickly.

Booth stroked two fingers down the valley between her breasts and over her navel. _So gorgeous. _He moved down towards the end of the bed as he knelt at her feet, his palms spread across her hips as his thumbs peeled her open. Brennan moaned as her damp folds were exposed to the air of the room that was driven across her tender flesh by his ceiling fan.

"_Ohhh…_"

"I want to taste you," he said huskily. "I'm _going_ to taste you," Booth told her, raising his head a little to confirm that Brennan had no objections.

"Why the fuck are you asking me for my permission?" Brennan said, suddenly impatient. _Why is he wasting time? Now. I need more now. God. Please, Booth. _"I'm here, aren't I? Just do it. Don't tell me what you're going to do. If you're so goddamn good at it like you claim, then show me. _Show_, don't tell."

Reaching forward, Brennan threaded her fingers through his hair and pushed his head down a bit roughly, giving him all the encouragement or prodding that Booth needed.

"Touch me," Brennan rasped. "Now. Right now. Touch me."

He licked his thumb and drew it across her flesh, from her opening up to her clit, dragging with it the silky evidence of her arousal.

"Oh, fuck. Keep...keep doing that. _Now._ Keep—ohhhh God, Booth…"

He smiled at the sound of her saying _his _name that way, a sound that he had imagined a hundred times but which sounded sweeter and more glorious to his ears than it ever had in a fantasy. Then it occurred to him: no lover had ever actually moaned his surname. Every woman he had ever made love to had called him by his first name. But, not this one. This unique woman had moaned his name in a way that no other woman had. As his nostrils filled with the rich, sweet smell of her, Booth wondered if he would ever want to hear his name moaned any other way than he had just heard it.

Booth let her guide his head downward and slid his tongue along the length of her inner folds, eliciting a hiss from her. He drew a circle around her opening, rimming her as he relished in the contrast between the firm feel of her opening and the soft, sweet silky cream that drenched it. He dipped his tongue deeper, moaning himself at the feel of her against his lips.

"God, you taste amazing," he said.

Brennan flinched at the sensation of his voice vibrating against her. "_Unnnngghh,_" she groaned. He withdrew his tongue and drew it up to her swollen clit. He flicked it once with his tongue and felt her muscles tense at the sensation, then he closed his lips around it and sucked gently, noting her shudder as he pulled away briefly. "Don't stop," she whispered, her fingers dragging against his scalp as she stroked her thumbs through his dark brown hair. With a smirk, he bent his head down again and focused on her clit, alternating between licks and gentle sucks.

"Mmmm," he murmured. "I love how you taste," he said, dipping his tongue back into her and rimming her once more. "You taste like…sweet."

"I can't taste like sweetness, Booth, that's entirely too vague a concept—"

Booth moved his mouth closer back to her clitoris, and focused his attention there, feeling slightly challenged since, if Brennan still had enough brain power to get all squinty and wordsmith like that, it suggested that he really wasn't doing his job properly.

"Oooooh, fuck," Brennan said, twisting a bit against him. "What are you—_fuck!_ Yes. Oh, God… yessss…"

_I'm so close,_ Brennan thought, a very teeny tiny part of her rational brain still present and accounted for seemed to be keeping track of things. Much like a sports analyst would sit in the score booth of a baseball game with the playbook, a small part of Brennan's brain checked off another line and started to indicate Brennan's progression. Booth had obviously batted around and sent her reeling for home plate—_and when the fuck did I start thinking in sports metaphors, damn it?_

"I need…. I need to, oh… ohhh, God—Booooo-ooth!" Brennan groaned, suddenly realizing as soon as she cried out that she had finally achieved exactly what she wanted and needed, although it had crawled up on her unexpectedly.

Booth knew from the way all of Brennan's muscles had tensed that she was almost there when she started mouthing off again, telling him once more how to do his job, which, in turn, had spurred him to draw his tongue once more across her clit. Brennan had screamed, shuddering hard as she came apart under the relentless caress of his tongue.

Immensely pleased with himself, as Booth knew there was no way that Brennan could realistically deny that one, he licked his lips and smiled as he moved his head up the length of her torso so that it rested just so in the valley of her breasts. "Okay," he said, "you can't tell me that wasn't—"

"No—" Brennan gasped, struggling for words.

"No?" Booth muttered indignantly. "What do you mean 'no'?"

Licking her lips, Brennan closed her eyes and shook her head fiercely as she said, "I mean, yes… I-I… I did."

"You did what exactly?" Booth intoned.

"Yes," she said, pulling away from him slightly, fearing he would tease her sensitive flesh. "I… I—"

"Bones—"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Booth, we both know I just came. What, do you need me to sign an affidavit now?" Brennan muttered, angry at his insistence as the euphoria of the orgasm started to melt away, leaving her once again in some semblance of control of her mental faculties.

"No," he laughed, his smile vanishing into her silky skin as he leaned his head down and kissed the notch at the base of her throat. "You taste absolutely incredible," Booth murmured, pressing a hard, sucking kiss along her collarbone as she drew a hard breath. "Every bit of you," he said. She reached for his jaw and pulled his mouth towards hers, knowing that she couldn't stay angry for long, not with how those lips of his made her feel.

"Mmmm," she mumbled as his mouth covered hers, and she tasted herself on his lips as his tongue slid between her teeth. Brennan grasped his mouth with her own, hungry for the combined taste of him and her, chasing his tongue with hers as she felt the room spinning around them.

He broke the kiss, panting for breath as he smiled down on her. "You like the way you taste?" Booth asked, pleasantly surprised that she—unlike most women he had been with—showed no reticence about tasting her own fluids on his lips.

She gave no answer but another hard, grasping kiss one of her hands traced down his back and slid beneath the waistband of his boxer-briefs, across to the front of his hip.

"I want to feel you," she said hoarsely, tugging at his shorts. "Now. Right now, Booth. I need… I need to touch you. I want to see you—all of you. Now. I want to feel you, right now."

He nodded in silence, sliding his underwear off his hips and kicking them to the floor. Brennan sat up and propped herself against the pillows behind her. She smiled at the sight of him, completely nude and on his hands and knees in front of her. Brennan's eyes widened as she saw his cock, which was even larger in circumference than she would have imagined based on what she'd seen and felt through his underwear. She wanted to reach out and touch it, wondering if it felt and tasted as amazing as it looked standing proud between his legs. Booth grasped it, and stroked it a few times in his hand as he stared at her, a feral look in his dark, inky eyes.

"I want you," he growled, no longer able or willing to hide his all-consuming desire for her. "Fuck," he groaned. "I don't want to, but…now. I need to be inside you. _Right now._ Understand?"

"Now," she agreed. "You. Inside me. Right now."

She leaned forward a bit, her legs falling open in plain invitation as Brennan tried to beckon him to her.

Grabbing her hand, Booth saw something shining in Brennan's eyes, and it angered him just a bit. "I'm not a damn cabana boy you can just wag your little finger at, open your legs for me, and think I'll service you like a goddamn stud, Bones," he growled. "This is not just about you."

"So says the guy who has my cum all over his mouth," Brennan taunted. "I'd say this is very much about me, Booth. Now, if you really think I'm going to believe it that you're going to turn your nose up at a chance to fuck me when your balls have been turning blue for three years, let me know so I can start laughing right now."

"This is _not_ just about you," Booth repeated.

"Then _prove_ it," Brennan said. "Because, right now, all the evidence points to the contrary."

"Turn over," Booth ordered her. "And, I'll give you all the fucking evidence you want."

"Agreed," Brennan said, a saucy look coming over her face. Slowly, very slowly, she pulled her legs closed and rolled over onto her stomach.

Taking her time in complying with Booth's demands, he grew impatient with Brennan as he suddenly reached down, slid an arm under her stomach, and pulled her up on her knees. "Up, now. Right now," Booth hissed in her ear, his voice low and dark. "Get on your hands and knees, right now."

Biting her lip, whether in anticipation or frustration at being bossed around by Booth, or both, Brennan complied with his command.

Brennan felt his hands on her hips, pulling her toward him roughly as his hard length brushed against the cleft of her ass.

"Fuck," she groaned.

"Fuck what, Bones?" Booth grunted.

"Me," Brennan moaned. She felt him nudge the inside of her thigh with his knee, urging her to spread her legs farther apart as he stroked his hand across her soaking wet folds, grazing her clit with one of his fingers. "Fuck me."

"Fuck you?" Booth repeated. "Why should I?"

"Because I know it's what you want, too," Brennan hissed. "You want to ram your cock so far inside me, and have for years, Booth. You want to do it so much so that you'd sell your precious soul for the chance to finally do it."

"Is that your way of you telling me I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't, Bones?" Booth grunted, pushing Brennan's shoulders down towards the bed and pulling her hips up to meet him. That voice in the back of his head told him that she'd be right.

"_Yeeeessss_," Brennan moaned, whether to answer his question or in response to his actions, Booth couldn't say.

Booth squeezed her ass cheeks and pulled them a part a little, and she felt his cock stroke along her wet folds. Her breathing became shallow in anticipation.

"God, Booth," she said, turning her head back to look at him. "Fuck," she moaned. "Now."

"No," Booth muttered, through clenched teeth. "I'm calling the shots here, Bones, not you."

"I don't care how you do it, but you better shut up and start fucking me, or I'm going to scream," Brennan rasped.

"Oh, that's okay," Booth said. "As I have every intention of making you scream _again _before I'm through with you, Bones. And, that's a promise."

"Please, Booth," she whined, annoyed at the pleading tone of her voice but wanting him and his thick cock so badly, so intensely that Brennan didn't care how desperate she sounded.

"Please what?" he taunted her, stroking his cock again along the full length of her moist flesh. "Huh?"

"Please…"

"What do you want, Bones?" he snarled, thrusting his hips into her as he held his cock in his hand, teasing her. He had to bite his lip to keep from losing control as his sensitive tip came into contact with her hot, wet pussy. _So close, _his lustful mind hissed. _Not yet, _his self-control whispered back. _Just a little longer._

"Fuck me, Booth," she grunted, at the sensation of him being so close and yet so far away. It was almost too much, the desperation of the entire situation, and it was driving Brennan insane. "_Now…"_

"Not good enough," Booth muttered. "Try again."

"What do you want me to say?"

"My name," Booth hissed. "Say my name again."

"Booth—"

"Not good enough—" he repeated, a finger slipping down to illustrate his point.

Brennan squirmed a bit, a hitch of breathlessness entering her voice at his movement. "_Booth,_" she breathed.

"Better," he conceded. "But, still not good enough. Again."

"Booth—" Brennan moaned. "Oh, fuck…. Booo-ttthhh."

She felt him stroke against her folds one last time before pulling back, lining himself up and driving into her with a loud grunt followed by a long groan. Brennan drew a deep breath as he entered her, surprised at how completely he filled her, and somewhat curious as to what particular aspect of her diction had finally satisfied his desire to hear his name on her lips.

"Oh, God," he moaned, pulling out slowly before thrusting into her again. "God, you're tight," he hissed, withdrawing himself slowly and admiring the way his flesh glistened with her moisture before driving into her again, harder this time. Booth fell into a two-stroke rhythm, slowly withdrawing before pounding into her, each entry seemingly harder, deeper and more savage than the one that proceeded it.

Each time he bottomed out inside of her, Brennan felt his balls smack against her, and the rhythm drove her wild, and she felt another release coiling up in her belly. She had never felt herself stretched the way he stretched her. She needed… it was almost what Brennan would describe as uncomfortable, given the angle at which he penetrated her each time. If she could just shift him a bit, it would be _so _much better.

"Goddamn it," she muttered. "Booth—" she grunted. She tried to shift her hips just a bit, but Booth's hands remained tightly anchored to her ass, keeping Brennan from moving either to the left or the right. "Damn it!" she roared. "Either let me shift an inch to the left, or we're going to have a problem, Booth!"

No words met her exclamation, but as soon as she felt the pressure ease up on her hips, Brennan moved slightly and the next time he slide into her, Brennan felt a whimper of tense anticipation escape her lips. Now, each time Booth withdrew it felt like every nerve ending in her body were on fire, and each time he pounded into her she was sure her legs would collapse under her.

Booth reached around and, pressing one hand against her belly and grasping her shoulder with the other, he pulled her up with a heavy grunt, so that each of them were upright on their knees, her legs between his.

"Mine," he muttered. "Right now. This is _mine_," he said in a low grunt, so low, that Brennan didn't really hear him as he tightened his hold on her. "Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"_Mine_," he repeated. "Say it."

"Yours," Brennan rasped. _Oh, God. Booth. Please_. "Whatever you want to do to me," she moaned, "do it."

Booth grunted his approval at her words. _Do it! _He drove up into her, deliriously hard and deep, his cock ramming into her and touching parts of her she never even knew existed as he nipped and sucked on the soft, smooth skin at the base of her neck. Brennan turned her head slightly, shaking her hair out of his way to give him better access to the one spot that seemed to be interesting enough that it was holding his attention more than any other.

_Mine_, Booth thought as he marked her neck. _All mine_.

Booth, his attention drawn from her neck, felt Brennan's hands in his hair, diverting his attention. His hands came up again as he squeezed her nipple hard between his thumb and forefinger.

"Mine," Booth grunted as he felt her clench around him, spurring him on to drive harder into her. He slid his other hand down and stroked her clit with his middle finger, once, then twice—

"Ohhhh—aahhhhh—_ohhhh,_ God, _Booooooooth!_" she screamed. "Ohhhh, _God_—" She felt her legs give way as she came apart in his arms but he held her up even as he thrust into her. His hands stopped their ministrations and he simply held her close, her body held against his as he followed her over the edge into sweet oblivion and emptied himself into her.

Brennan fell onto all fours as Booth collapsed over her, covering her back with his torso, his hands pressed into the mattress on each side of her hips to support his weight. Both gasped for breath, almost starving for oxygen. The sounds of the rapid intake of air was all that echoed throughout the bedroom.

Afraid to move, lest she fracture, Brennan remained absolutely still as her conscious mind floated back down to reality. Brennan wasn't sure in how much of a better state Booth was in than she was, but turned her head at last to look over her shoulder. His face rested near her shoulder, his forehead dotted with beads of sweat and his skin flushed in a way that was extremely unfamiliar to Brennan. Even more confusing, his eyes were closed—not tightly, but as his cheek rested on her bare shoulder for a minute, Booth wasn't looking at anything. At last, starting to feel her extremities again, Brennan shook a bit, and her chest heaving from their exertions, she whispered, "Booth?"

And, then, for the first time since it had happened, as a vague part of Brennan realized that while she had called out his name repeatedly, Booth had never once cried out hers, he said something that sounded wonderfully intimate to her ears.

"Bones?" he said, smiling against her shoulder.

"Again," Brennan whispered. _My name_. _Booth was calling my name. Again, I need to hear it again._

Tilting his head at her, Booth asked, "What?"

"Say it again," Brennan replied, a little louder, as she shook her head emphatically.

"What?"

"My name," Brennan clarified. "Say it again." _Please_, she begged silently. _Say my name. Mean it. Say it, and mean it._

"Why?"

"Do you want me to leave or do you want me to stay?" Brennan grunted, her frustration mounting. _If he doesn't say it, so what? What's the big deal? It's just Booth. It's just a word, just a single word. It's not like he hasn't said it thousands of times before. He says it all the time. But…I need to hear it, now. Right now. I need to hear him say my name._

Booth looked into her eyes, their heads so close together, joined in one of the most intimate kinds of embraces as he finally said, "Stay."

"Then, say my name," Brennan demanded. "Say it right now." _And, mean it! _

"Bones."

It was like music to her ears. Brennan couldn't say why, didn't want to admit why, wasn't _ready _to admit why, but it mattered to her, and she did know that it was important that she heard him say it.

"Again."

Tilting his head so that he was almost nibbling on her ear lobe, Booth breathed a husky puff of warm air her ear as he whispered, "_Bones_."

Satisfied, Brennan let herself fall into the bed, and Booth followed her. Rolling them over, so that Brennan was on top, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in for a kiss. With the first real indication of any gentleness in his actions over the course of the entire evening, Booth returned Brennan's soft kiss, and then wrapped his arms around her torso as he rolled them onto their sides. Reaching for the discarded comforter, Booth used his legs to edge it up towards the bed's headboard. Reluctantly removing one hand from where he had encircled Brennan's waist, Booth quickly pulled the comforter up and around them, returning his hand to where it had previously rest, which he could tell was more than satisfactory at least as far as Brennan was concerned. Squeezing her tightly once, Booth felt Brennan relax against him, her breathing slow, and at last, he too let his drooping eyelids fall closed as sleep claimed him.

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><p><strong>-TBC-<strong>

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><p><strong>AN: **Ummm, so yeah, there it is. No, the story's not done yet. There's one more chapter to go. If you want to read it all the more quickly, don't be shy. Leave us a message, and we'll respond with Chapter 6 in prompt order.~


	3. Ch 6: To Even the Score

**Title: Costly Signals**

**By: **_**dharmamonkey**_** and **_**Lesera128**_

**Rated: M**

**Disclaimer: **We own nothing... Obviously. We're still just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

**A/N: **So, here we are... at long last, the final chapter to our ficlet odyssey. Thanks so much to all the reviewers who've sent such great feedback. I don't think I'm telling any secrets to say that dharmamonkey and I have been cracking up as we read some of them. So, to all who shared, it's wonderful. Thank you. And, now, all we have to say is, without further adieu, is... enjoy.~

UNF ALERT!: Yup, it's still here. Why? Well, because we aren't done yet with the unf-y goodness. Still with us? Excellent. Proceed at your own risk.~

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><p><strong>Chapter 6 – To Even the Score<strong>

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><p>Booth, laying on his side, woke up to the sound of a ringing phone. It took him a minute to get his bearings as his hand shot out towards the spot on his bedside table where he normally set his phone, but found nothing there. Shooting his head up of his pillow, Booth realized that while <em>his<em> phone wasn't on the nightstand table that _hers_ was, ringing and buzzing and mercilessly hounding Booth with its auditory assault on his senses. Booth swallowed once, realizing how much his tongue felt like sandpaper, most likely because of the fact that he had lifted his head from a pillow marked by a large pile of drool. Brennan lay next to Booth, one of her legs hooked in-between his. However, at some point during the night, Brennan had shifted so that she was clutching a pillow lengthwise, diagonally distant from Booth's own upper body. Quickly glancing over at Brennan's prone and still sleeping form, he saw her stir slightly—at the cell phone's incessant ringing or his movements, Booth couldn't say—but she didn't wake up.

Shifting onto his back so that he could move the couple of inches in the direction of the nightstand necessary for him to be able to get to the phone, Booth reached for it, wincing in discomfort, as both his muscles started to ache and the cell phone's annoying sounds continued to pierce his sleepy haze and started his head a-throbbing. Biting back an appropriate curse word, Booth took one look at the display and he froze:

_Incoming Call: Dr Saroyan_

The phone rang two more times, and Booth wondered if the phone he had heard ring in the dream he'd been having when he woke up wasn't actually a dream phone, but rather a prior attempt by Cam (or someone else) to reach Brennan.

He pressed the button with the little green phone icon and answered it.

"Booth," he blurted into the phone, his verbalization the product of reflex.

The caller was silent for a few tense seconds before Booth heard Cam take a breath and speak.

"Uh, Booth. It's Cam. Where's Dr. Brennan?" she asked, unwilling to inquire out loud as to why Booth was answering Brennan's phone.

Booth swallowed hard. "Um, she stepped away for a minute, Cam," he lied.

He heard the gravelly huskiness in his voice and knew he would not be able to convince Cam that he was merely hungover. She knew that voice, having woken up next to it before herself.

"Uh, okaaayy," Cam replied. "Well, when she steps back, have her call me ASAP."

"Sure. Will do," Booth said.

"Thanks," Cam replied and then ended the call abruptly as she hung up.

Booth held up the phone in front of him, tilting it so that his eyes could focus on the display, and squinting, he read the time with one eye.

_Thursday, 10:22 AM. _

The time and date on the phone suddenly jerked Booth's groggy brain, albeit reluctantly, into another mindset as he remembered why and with what reasoning he had sent Brennan away from the Greenbelt crime scene the previous day—there were human remains on the slab, awaiting her.

"Oh, shit," he whispered as he rolled over and traced the gentle curve of her shoulder with his glance.

Still asleep, Booth stopped for a few precious seconds to look at Brennan in what he would have aptly described one of her most unguarded moments. Her hair, wildly askew and spread out across one his pillows, hid most of her face from view. Although it seemed trite and redundant to say it, asleep, Brennan really did look more innocent and younger than her features ever betrayed in a waking state. Not many people got to see her like that, and despite the hows of the situation that had resulted in this particular outcome, Booth suddenly felt very privileged and possessive of his new status. However, upon closer inspection, Booth could also see some of the preliminary evidence of their encounter from the prior evening, complicating his already jumbled emotional response to the entire situation. Turning his head, he could see where her makeup had smeared around her one visible eye in a sparkly smudge of black and grey streaks. Wincing, Booth also thought he could just make out the tell-tale signs of skin discoloration at the base of her neck. Her hair hid most of it, but Booth was willing to bit it was probably a hickey, put there by him. _Yeah, this is definitely not good_, Booth thought. _Not good at all_. An image passed through his mind—that of of her ass, heart-shaped and plump beneath his hands as he pumped into her. _That, however, was really good, though. _His eyes drifting back to the clock, Booth realized he was wasting time that neither one of them had when he saw it had somehow become 10:41 AM in just the few seconds he had spent staring at Brennan.

Shifting towards her, Booth called out softly, "Bones..."

Brennan didn't respond to that overture.

Raising his hand, Booth gently placed it on her shoulder, which was covered by his bed sheet, and lightly caressed her arm. "Bones—" he repeated.

At this action, Brennan did stir slightly, whimpering quietly as she burrowed down into the covers and warmth of Booth's bed. Her attempts to snuggle more deeply into the softness of the pillows and blankets had caused Brennan to wiggle her ass against Booth's frontal anatomy as she spooned back against him. _Okay, good, but_ _definitely not helpful_, Booth thought, immediately praying his already semi-hard morning erection didn't suddenly get the best of him from Brennan's unintentional movements.

Scooting away from her, Booth gave her a bit of a rougher shake than he had intended, and suddenly Brennan's pale green eyes flew open and she rolled over to stare at her partner, but didn't say anything for several very long seconds. Unable to stand the silence, Booth at last spoke.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Booth asked, suddenly hoarse. _How could she do that_? Booth thought. _One little wiggle of her ass, one little batting of her eyelashes, and I'm already half way out of my damn mind._

"Who says I'm staring? You're the one who woke me up," Brennan said, yawning a bit.

"Uh, yeah," Booth responded. "About that, your cell phone rang."

"So?"

"It was Cam—"

"I suppose you know that because you took the liberty of picking up my cell phone and answering, didn't you?" Brennan said, moving languidly in the bed and slowly sitting up, clutching the sheet to her chest. She could feel several competing desires battling for her attention. On one hand, she felt slightly hung over from the previous night's consumption of alcoholic beverages. All things considered, it actually wasn't too bad a hangover. She was thirsty more than anything else, most likely due to dehydration. On the other hand, Brennan was warm and comfortable and in Booth's bed, with him staring at her in a decidedly more hesitant and more uncertain frame of mind than the confidence and domineering chauvinism that had he had displayed under the darkness of the previous evening's activities. Finally, there was the last consideration, that if Brennan wasn't very much mistaken, she thought she had just started to feel the firm reminder of a certain part of Booth's anatomy pressing against her under the covers before he had pulled away. Somewhat unfazed by Booth's mention of Camille Saroyan, Brennan chose to focus on the fact that Booth had once again touched her cell phone without permission first, and Booth himself immediately thereafter. "You really need to be educated in the proper behavior regarding cell phone propriety, Booth."

"Uh, Bones, Cam said—"

"I don't really care what Cam said at the present moment, Booth," Brennan said, eyeing him with an appraising stare. "What I do care about is the fact that we have some unfinished business from last night that I firmly intend to complete before I attend to any other issues at the Jeffersonian."

"Unfinished business?" Booth said, his voice dropping an octave. "What kind of unfinished business?"

"To the best of my recollection, contrary to my earlier supposition about your alleged inferior skills in being able to elicit certain responses from a female partner when in a sexual situation, I believe I achieved at least two orgasms last night… to your one."

"'_At least_ two?' Hmmm…" Booth said, a flash of his former bravado returning. "I knew it! You _were_ lying."

_Yeah, I totally made her come three times,_ he grinned. _She won't admit it, but I know. That's so—wow. _Hearing her thinly-veiled confirmation of his successes a few hours earlier sent a tingle down his spine, and Booth felt himself going from semi-hard to completely hard just thinking about it. _Score._

"I was merely uncertain that making such an admission was in my best interests last night, Booth. However, that's not germane to the present issue at hand. Before I leave and return to the lab to focus on the remains that are awaiting analysis, I feel strongly compelled to address that inequality that I mentioned," Brennan said, sitting up in the bed. "I'm not leaving your apartment, or this bed, really, before I make it patently clear that I'm just as adroit and skillful at certain things as you are…when I'm properly motivated."

Booth watched her, uncertain what in the hell was suddenly happening. Booth had expected a million different possible responses when he woke Brennan up—from her bolting quickly from his apartment, half-dressed and in embarrassed shame to her casually beginning to dress while analytically dissecting the significance of the previous evening's acts. What he had _never_ anticipated was the fact that Brennan would be staring at him with an animalistic gleam in her eyes, looking at Booth as if he were some type of fine wine, to be consumed thoughtfully, with skilled precision, and carefully controlled enjoyment.

"What are you saying, Bones?" Booth asked.

"I'm saying," Brennan said, whetting her bottom lip a bit, as she let the sheet drop from where she had been holding it to her chest throughout their conversation, "that we have unfinished business to which we need to attend."

A certain predatory glint had come into Brennan's eyes, and it surprised Booth. Leaning forward, Brennan rose up on her knees and started to move towards him, across the center of the bed, and in the direction of the far side where he lay propped on the edge.

"Uh, Bones?"

"Yes, Booth?"

"What exactly are you doing?" he asked, although, from her movements, there seemed to be little doubt in his mind as to what Brennan was doing—or, at least, what she thought she was going to attempt to do. _If I'm dreaming, don't wake me up._

"I'm closing the physical distance between us so that I can initiate another sexual encounter," Brennan said in a low voice. _Go ahead and tell me to stop. I dare you._

"_Uh huh_," Booth said. He watched Brennan take another movement towards towards him, having rapidly closed the distance separating them, and suddenly, Booth realized that he had run out of bed as he instinctually had moved backwards every time she had moved forwards to maintain the distance between them. Over the edge he went, and landed on his side with a loud grunt. "Ow, fuck!"

Brennan, biting back a smile of amusement, quickly finished scooting over to the edge of the bed. Placing her hands on her hips, she looked down at Booth like some Greek goddess deigning to reward a chosen mortal with her intimate favors.

"You know," she began after a few seconds, "this would be a lot easier if you would stay in the damn bed."

Pushing himself off of his side, Booth rolled into an upright position, crossing his legs Indian-style. Brennan looked on in appreciation as she saw his cock standing at prompt attention, and Booth's ears turned red when he noticed to where her gaze had fallen. "It's just because it's morning, Bones. That… it happens to guys all the time, you know. It's nothing special."

"Right," Brennan said, licking her bottom lip again. "While I'm very familiar with the biological phenomena of nocturnal penile tumescence, _that _is not because you have morning wood."

"How do you even know what that means?' Booth asked incredulously.

Rolling her eyes, Brennan said, "Older brother, remember?"

"Oh, right," Booth muttered. "Even still, this isn't because of, well, ya know—anything to do with you."

"Liar," Brennan taunted him. "What's the big deal?" she smirked, echoing his words from last night. "Just admit it."

"There's nothing to admit."

"Oh," Brennan said, suddenly, deciding another tactic was in order. "Okay, then."

"Okay?"

"Yes," Brennan said. "If I'm wrong, then I suppose there's no reason why I should stay in bed. I think I'll just go ahead and get dressed so I can get back to the lab—"

"What?" Booth muttered.

"Unless—" Brennan began. "You stop being foolish and get your ass back up in bed. _Now_."

Narrowing his eyes at her, Booth scowled, but remained seated. Shrugging her shoulders, Brennan said, "Okay then. See you later."

Brennan began to make her way to the opposite side of the bed when she suddenly felt the other side of the mattress dip with Booth's weight. Smiling to herself, Brennan, still on her knees, slowly turned around. Booth sat on the bed facing her, reclining on his knees with his legs tucked underneath him. Brennan, tilting her head at Booth, bent forward, and put her hands to the mattress as she began to crawl towards him. Booth watched her, never blinking, as he focused on her luscious breasts hanging low and full in front of him. They swayed slightly with each movement as Brennan crawled forward, and Booth felt his balls tighten as he noticed her nipples had already peaked in hard, erect nubs.

"Like what you see, Booth?' Brennan said breathily as she came forward.

"You already know I think you're un-fucking-believably hot, Bones," Booth muttered. "I've never argued that point," he said, echoing her earlier words.

"True," Brennan said, still crawling toward him. Tilting her head a bit, she said, "Do you think I'm fuckable right now, Booth?"

"Completely," Booth rasped. "Always." _Always have, always will._

"So, if you had the choice, what would you want to do with me right now?" Brennan said, coming up on her knees in front of Booth's reclining body. "Do you have a preference?"

"I want—"

"Yes, Booth?"

Brennan's tongue darted out of her mouth, and she whetted her lips that were already a bit bee stung from their earlier endeavors. He felt that familiar tugging in his gut and tightening in his groin, and suddenly, Booth knew exactly what he wanted.

"I want you—"

"You want me to what, Booth?" Brennan asked. Suddenly, her hand snaked out and wrapped firmly around Booth's erection. "Obviously, you want me to touch you."

"Yes—" Booth whispered, feeling her hand tighten around his cock. "God, yes."

"What else?" Brennan said, as she began to pump him lightly.

"Mouth," Booth groaned. "I want…I want you to blow me."

"Hmmm," Brennan said, using her other hand to reach down and gently cup his testicles. "I bet you wouldn't think it, but I've been told I give great head."

_Actually, _he said to himself, _I've always thought you would. _He thought back to that gut-twisting, knee-melting kiss they had shared on the back stoop of his old pool bar, that night in the rain when he had almost taken her home with him. He knew then, that night, as he walked home in the drizzling rain with a hard-on the size of the state of Rhode Island and the worst case of blue balls that he'd ever had—_well, before tonight,_ he smirked—that, with the way her mouth felt and tasted as it worked his during that kiss, she would give amazing head. He had always suspected as much, and he had always hoped to find out whether his gut was right on this one. As the realization that Booth was about to find out sank into the recesses of his half-awake brain, he nearly came in her hand with the anticipation of it. _Yes._

"_Now,_" Booth grunted, a touch of aggression coming into his voice. "And, stop talking about the other dicks you've sucked. I don't want to hear it because it's _really_ pissing me off."

For a few seconds, the image of wanting to make Brennan cry out his name as he rammed into her again tempted Booth to throw the idea of a blow job out the proverbial window. However, the notion quickly disappeared from his mind as Brennan released both his cock and balls from her grasp. Lifting her head to meet his in an anxious kiss, Brennan reluctantly moved her head away from his mouth and whispered in his ear, "Lay down. It'll make this better."

Pulling away from him, Brennan watched Booth look at her for a moment before he slowly nodded his head in agreement. "Okay."

Brennan moved out of the way as Booth shifted onto his back in the middle of the bed. He adjusted his back under several pillows so that he lay at a half supine angle. Moving between his legs, Brennan coaxed them a part with her knees as she leaned in and covered his body with her torso. Pressing her breasts downwards against his abdomen, Brennan began to half-lick, half-nip a trail of wetness down the line from his navel to just above the ridge of his pubic bone. She breathed a warm puff of air on Booth's erect cock, and Brennan's efforts were rewarded as she saw it jerk slightly in anticipation.

Raising her eyes to Booth's that were already heavy-lidded with desire, Brennan smiled. "You sure this is what you want, Booth?"

"Yes," he muttered. "If you think you're good enough to give it to me, Bones."

"Oh, I'm definitely _more _than good enough, Booth," Brennan said, a wicked gleam in her eyes shining through. "Just remind me what you want me to do again?"

"I want you to shut the fuck up and put my cock in your mouth," Booth said, lifting his head off the pillows. Fisting the sheets on either side of his body, Booth was growing quite short on patience as Brennan continued to tease him. "Think you can handle that?" Booth grunted.

"Let's see, shall we?"

Bending down, Brennan's hair fell around Booth's groin like a spun cloud of auburn softness. It tickled the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, and Booth was about to chastise Brennan for teasing him, when a delicious warm moisture suddenly enveloped his cock. Gently at first, Brennan concentrated by swirling her tongue in a circle along circumference of his cock's head several times. Pressing down the length of his shaft, Brennan started to suck slightly, and felt Booth force himself to keep his pelvis from thrusting up off the bed and into her mouth. If she had been able to, Brennan would have grinned as she reached down and palmed his heavy testes in her hands and gave them a slight squeeze while continuing to move her mouth up and down to the base of his dick. Eventually, Brennan lifted her head as she started to feel the droplets of precum grow more and more prolific. Swallowing them greedily, Brennan moved her gaze up in the direction of Booth's face.

"Tangy," Brennan murmured. "Not as salty as I thought."

"Huh?" Booth grunted, his head still on the pillow and eyes closed. "Thought, what?"

"Your precum," Brennan said softly. "It doesn't taste like I thought it would."

Reluctantly, Booth lift his head and said, "Why?"

Shaking her head, Brennan smiled. "I'm not certain. I just—I thought maybe…it's just not what I expected."

He recognized the look on her face—the look of openness and curiosity that she had when tackling a new intellectual challenge—a look that, under most circumstances, he would have enjoyed observing on her face. But ,now, the last thing he wanted was for her to focus any of her energies on figuring out the how and the why of anything. He wanted her mouth back where it belonged: around his cock, her tongue working its sensational magic along the underside of him as her lips dragged back and forth over his skin, the back of her throat touching the tip of him when she took him most deeply. _Oh, God, _he thought. _If I have to wait a second longer to feel her mouth around me again,_ he thought, _I'm gonna drop dead, right here, right now._

"Bones?"

Taking a finger and lightly tracing the veins on the delicate skin of his cock, Brennan shook her head and murmured, "Yes, Booth?"

"Ahh, will you… _ummm,_ I need you to go back to what you were doing," Booth moaned.

"Which thing?"

_God, she's killing me._

"With your mouth," Booth grunted.

"You mean, when I was sucking you off?" Brennan teased.

"Yes—"

_Dammit._

"You liked that, didn't you?" Brennan laughed. _What was that phrase of Angela's? 'Payback's a bitch'?_

"Yes," Booth moaned. "God, yes."

"Are you close?" Brennan said, taking her hand and fisting him suddenly, no longer gentle in her movements. Quickly, she began to allow a pleasurable friction to build as Booth's head rolled back and he moaned her name. "Hmmmm," Brennan said. "You need to tell me when you're close, Booth. I'd very much like it if when you came, it was in my mouth."

"Is this your way of telling me if you spit or swallow, Bones?"

Brennan chuckled. "Women of several cultures in the Orient, particularly in China during the early modern period ,would suck a male's cock until it was empty because they believed the consumption of the semen improved their own complexions. Local healers perpetuated the idea that semen could improve skin luminosity and radiance-"

"Fuck, Bones… please, shut up and suck—" Booth said raggedly. "_Please_."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Brennan murmured.

Resuming her former position, Brennan's head began to bob up and down, and a steady rhythm built in her movements. Booth, continuing to build towards an orgasm, started to thrust into her mouth, despite his earlier resolution not to do so.

"Oh, fuck, Bones—" Booth muttered. "Goddamn…."

His hips coming up off the bed, when Brennan gave one particularly strong motion to half-swallow Booth's cock in the back of her throat, Booth suddenly felt himself fall off of the edge of self control. He cried out in an incoherent mutter of consonants as his release pulsed out of him, every drop of which Brennan quickly swallowed, sucking him until he was dry. Falling back into the bed, his eyes closed, Booth lost the capacity to reason as Brennan, very pleased with herself, suddenly let his cock fall from her lips with a gentle _pop_. Seeing Booth laying utterly spent and sated in his bed because of _her _efforts made her feel very empowered. She contemplated remaining in bed for a moment, but glancing at the clock, realized how late it had become. Knowing that if she wasn't out of bed, and at least partially clothed by the time Booth regained some semblance of coherent thought that Brennan would never make it to the lab today, she reluctantly pulled away from him and moved towards the edge of the bed.

Booth stared at the ceiling, gasping for air, as Brennan slid out of bed, and bent to the floor, retrieving various items of clothing that had been discarded in the haste of the previous evening's activities. He felt as if the hemispheres of his brain had been pulled apart at the seam, and he struggled to string together words into a coherent thought, never mind bring himself to say something. He was quite sure that Bones had just given him the most profoundly, mind-numbingly awesome blow job of his life, and he was also quite sure that he wasn't going to tell her that at that moment, assuming he was capable of saying anything at all.

Feeling much better about the entire situation, as if she had finally reasserted and/or reclaimed some of her own pride regarding her interaction and partnership with Booth, Brennan was almost half-dressed by the time his head shot off the pillows.

Finally, the haze in his brain cleared enough that he could form words. "What are you doing?" Booth asked, his eyes ablaze with curiosity.

"I should think," Brennan began, as she clasped her bra closed in front of her and adjusted the cups before continuing. "That was fairly obvious, Booth. I'm getting dressed—"

"Why?"

"Because, I want to return to my apartment, shower, change, and perhaps I might be able to make it back to the Jeffersonian just as the others are returning from lunch. If I hurry, I think I can still put in at least half a day on the remains from the Greenbelt crime scene."

"You're leaving?" he asked, the disbelief and perhaps, just a tad, of disappointment edging into his voice, even though the rational part of his mind reminded him that he needed to get his own ass in gear and down to the Hoover before Cullen or anyone else knew he was MIA.

"Yes," Brennan said, bending down to pull her jeans up her legs and over her hips. "I told you that as soon as I balanced the current state of things between us, I would turn my attention to the lab. Since I think we both can clearly agree that we are now even in the number of times each of us elicited a sexual release from the other, I've got to get to work."

_Not exactly even, _he noted, content to leave that argument for another day. _Wait—what?_

Sitting up, Booth pursed his lips, an unreadable look coming onto his face. "That's it?"

"Yes," Brennan repeated. Pulling the black halter over her head, she smoothed the hopelessly wrinkled garment and then gave up with a slight shrug. Slipping into her heels, Brennan adjusted them before she began to move towards the bedroom door. Stopping with her hand on the door knob, Brennan looked over her head and said, "Will I see you at the lab later?"

"I, ah, I don't know, Bones." Booth struggled to speak, his brain still scrambled from the powerful orgasm she'd just given him, and surprised that she was so—well, casual—about walking out and heading into work after the way in which they'd just spent the last ten hours. "Maybe, yeah, I guess—"

"Good," Brennan said, turning the door knob in her hand. "I'll just let myself out." The last phrase nearly made his stomach turn.

"Bones—"

"Booth?" Brennan said, her eyes still focused on the door in front of her, despite the fact that her tone of voice had softened a bit. "I _was_ wrong, you know. I'm…well, I'm not leaving here physically unsatisfied, no matter what else I may have claimed to the contrary last night, just after—when I said I hadn't. You were right. I was lying. I just—well, I just wanted you to know that. I'll see you later, okay?"

Without another word, Brennan pulled the door open and walked out, not bothering to wait for a response. She never even noticed as Booth's eyes followed her retreating form as as he watched her leave, the sound of her heels reverberating on the wooden floors echoing as Brennan left Booth alone in his bed.

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><p><strong>~The End~<strong>

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><p><em><strong>AN**__: _And, now, a final word from your sponsors…

We have an idea of where we might want to take this fic going forward, but we want to hear from you. Do you want to see where Booth and Brennan go from here? Or, was this bizarre little one-night stand enough for you? Let us know. Yes, you know how this works, folks—leave a review and let us know if this was as good for you as it was for us ;-) And, tell us if you would like to see a sequel. It's been a crazy different - but in a vedry, very good/wicked awesome way - experience for both of us since our writing styles are very similar in some ways, but very different in others. If you can't tell who wrote which part, we've done our job in blending our vibes together in a single cohesive story. So, if this little experiment rocked your world (like it did our brains) please do let us know. It really helps us to collect some evidence in validation of our experiment's hypothesis - and hopefully, by now, we've proven just how fun collecting evidence can be. :)

Okay, seriously, why are you guys still here? Go review. We need to know how we did. Good, bad, hot, not? Please, let us know. Right now…and thanks. :)~


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